When You Are Confused
by supernaturaldh
Summary: When you are confused, I will use little tiny words.  A wayward ghost hunt and a concussed Sam can only make for one pissed-off big brother.
1. Chapter 1

**When You Are Confused**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Summary:** When you are confused, I will use little tiny words. A wayward ghost hunt and a concussed Sam can only make for one pissed-off big brother.

**Timeline: ** Season Two.

**Beta:** None, all mistakes are my own

**AN:** I haven't been writing a lot lately, but then, a SH Challenge got me back into it again – and here I am. Did you miss me?

**When You Are Confused**

**Chapter One**

Sam blinked sluggishly. It was dark and he could barely see. Slowly, his eyes focused on the winding staircase sprawled out just above his head. _Why am I lying on the freaking floor?_ His body gave a tiny shiver as it caught up with his badly aching head. He pondered the situation for a moment, his memories slowly falling back in place. _A hunt- Bobby had sent them on a hunt? _He blew out a weary sigh_. Had that just been yesterday? _

He stared in confusion around the empty room. _Was that his legs splayed out above his head? _He vaguely remembered taking a mad tumble down the stairs. _No wonder I'm so damn uncomfortable – _He shifted, a sharp pain flaring across his lower back and making its self known. It drowned out his throbbing head for just a moment as his face contorted up in the pain. _Oh my God that hurts. _He groaned.

Slowly, and with great effort, he lowered his legs back down against the dirty floor. His body turned uncomfortably, the exertion shooting sharp pains up his legs and down his spine. With his teeth clamped tightly shut, he scooted backward on his butt until he was lying flat against the floor his legs no longer up above his head. Out of breath from the exertion, he lay perfectly still and gulped down oxygen, mentally cataloging all his bodies' aches and pains. _Okay, I'm okay…I'm okay…_

He blew out a shaky breath and blinked to clear his waning vision. He pulled a hand up to rub against his aching head. Pulling his fingers away to see a warm, wet, tacky substance now coated his fingers. It made his stomach churn –_Blood- _ He frowned as he stared at his covered digits, then quickly, he rubbed his hand against his jeans.

He looked around room in confusion and blinked to clear his foggy eyes. _Where am I again? _He really wished he could remember what had happened. His thoughts seemed confused and he couldn't seem to grab on to one. _A hunt, check, an old house – check - my rock salt gun –_ He looked thoughtlessly around the dimly lit room. His unclear hazels fell to the shotgun that was now lying right beside him on the floor. _Gun- - check. _Slow reality seeped into his thoughts_. A hunt_ _with Dean – yeah, that was it - - wait –where's Dean? _

His unfocused eyes skittered all around the empty room. _No Dean? _His heart suddenly thudded loudly in his chest and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. He heaved in shakily. He waited for his addled brain to catch up with his thoughts again. _Where's Dean?_ His brows furrowed. Finally, he figured out that he needed to find his brother and he pushed up on his shaky arms. His body waivered as he attempted to set up. The world did a lazy spin and he swallowed down the bile that welled up in his throat. _I got 'a find Dean._

He pushed to stand up and then swayed dramatically as he stood on jelly-like legs. His body didn't seem to want to cooperate with what he knew he had to do. He fell abruptly back down to the dirty floor – hard – and it sent fire up his spine into his throbbing head.

"Shit," he hissed out. _Damn that freaking hurts._

He lay silently for a few minutes willing the pain to go away.

He closed his eyes. _What was I doing again? _He pulled in a heavy sigh – _why can't I remember? Oh yeah. _And with that, he pushed himself back up and finally made it to his feet, fully standing on his weak and wobbly legs.

He tugged in a stuttering breath.

Slowly, he bent at the waist and stooped to retrieve his displaced gun up off the floor. He hissed in pain, and then pushed to stand up tall.

Immediately the roar inside his head crested causing everything to suddenly go white with pain. Teardrops welled up to his eyes. He blinked them hastily back. _Suck it up._ He swayed and staggered, but managed to keep himself upright. He wasn't sure what hurt the most, his back, his head, or the tremendous urge he had to find his older brother. _Dean would make everything okay_.

And with that one thought, he blinked once, twice, three times and then, he placed one foot in front of the other and moved forward toward the long and winding stairs.

**24 Hours Ago **

The tiny road stretched into the trees and nothingness in both directions. It, the overpass for the highway, and the gas station were the only hints of civilization around. Dean pulled the Impala in next to a pump, hit the brake, and sat for a moment, his fingers tapping gently on the wheel. _Where the hell are we again?_ He was tired, too tired; and the last hunt had worn down his resolve. Obviously it had worn his kid brother down too. He glanced across at Sam who was sound asleep against the passenger door.

The older brother sighed and rubbed one hand down across his worn out face. Hell, sure Sam was tired, he'd been dragging them both all over the freaking country for weeks and weeks and weeks. He knew he was pushing them both too damn hard, but, ever since their father had died, well, he had this unrelenting need to rid the world of every freaking evil thing that he could find. For some reason, he couldn't seem to help it, and he couldn't seem to stop. Unfortunately, for Sam, that meant dragging him across the countryside. And Dean felt bad about that, he really did, but not bad enough to stop.

They'd just finished up a hunt for a Rip-pa-roo in Paris, Tennessee not twelve hours prior, and now, here they were, in the middle of freaking Nowhere USA. _Where the hell are we again?_ He looked around the first light of day attempting to reorient him-self, figure out exactly where the hell they were. He'd dozed in the car a few hours back, but he'd given up on any real sleep when Bobby Singer had called, told him about some ghost killing innocents out in the freaking sticks. Four people dead. _This one couldn't wait. _

The older brother looked across the bench seat at his sleeping siblings form. Unfortunately, as bad as he hated to admit it, he was freaking lost, and that meant one thing - he'd have to wake up Sam. _The kid will love this and I will never hear the freaking end of it._

He rolled his blood shot eyes and blew out a weary sigh.

"Sam," he gripped the sleeping giant by the shoulder and gave the limp body a little nudge.

Sam's eyes blinked open immediately, looking wildly around the inside of the car. He scrambled in an attempt to get his fingers wrapped around his hidden gun beneath the passenger seat.

"Whoa…there….easy," Dean stated as he gave the kid a firm pat on the chest. "We just need some gas."

"What?" the sleepy eyed hunter mumbled as he dropped his head back against the foggy passenger window. Slowly, his tensed up body relaxed with his older brother's words. "You woke me up for gas?" He asked curiously and then let his eyes drift shut again.

"Sam," Dean pushed his brother's shoulder again, a little bit harder this time. "Where the hell is this haunted house supposed to be?" _And there it is, yeah, that's right, I don't have a clue where we are._

"Just outside of Union City, on Highway 74," Sam mumbled as he struggled to open up his heavy eyes. Dean's previous words began to sink inside his head. _What?_

Dean yanked the car keys from the ignition. "And just where the hell is Highway 74 supposed to be?" he hissed. _Damn it all to hell._

Sam's eyes suddenly darted open and he looked with puzzlement at his older brother's face. "You're lost?" he queried in confusion.

Dean huffed as the driver's door screeched open.

A cold breeze whipped inside the car.

Sam's lips curled up and he pushed to set up straighter, suddenly wide awake. _Holy crap…Dean's lost? _

"Whatever," Dean rolled his eyes as he exited the car. He dipped his head around and looked heatedly at Sam. "Just figure out where the hell we are and where the hell we're going would'ya, while I pump the freaking gas."

The driver's door slammed shut.

Sam smirked. _This is good, too good. Dean admitting he is lost._ He smiled widely, his face almost beaming as he thought about his older brother words. _Man, I need to write this down in my things to remember book. _

The younger hunter could hardly contain his mirth as he reached into the back seat and yanked the tattered atlas out. He tugged it down across his legs as he yawned. _Dean is freaking lost! _He grinned smugly and squinted down at the drawing of the state of Indiana, trying to figure out exactly where the hell they were supposed to be.

4


	2. Chapter 2

**When You Are Confused**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Summary:** When you are confused, I will use little tiny words. A wayward ghost hunt and a concussed Sam can only make for one pissed-off big brother.

**Timeline: ** Season Two.

**Beta:** None, all mistakes are my own

**AN:** Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this story. I was hoping to post quicker, but alas, life keeps getting in the way. Oh, quit whining, you say. So, anyway, here it is. Hope you like.

**When You Are Confused**

**Chapter Two**

The driver's door squeaked open and Dean slid into the front seat of the Impala his green-blue eyes darting across the bench seat almost dejectedly at Sam. _I can't believe this shit, get with the program Winchester. _

"So, you figure out where we are yet?" He asked in exasperation. He blew out a weary sigh. He was admitting again that he didn't have a freaking clue where they were. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly as he waited for some smartass response from his brother.

Sam's lips quivered with the grin that he was trying hard to contain. His head rose from the atlas, ready to take full advantage of Dean's obvious loss of direction. _These opportunities are far and few between. _His brows furrowed though, as he looked across the bench seat. His older brother looked beat down, exhausted. He shifted slightly in the seat. _Now is not the time to take a jab at Dean. _He closed the tattered atlas and dropped it over the seat to the floorboard. _He's just got confused, turned around, that's all. It happens…_

"I think 'we'," he offered up hesitatingly as he looked back at Dean, "we missed Highway 74." He shrugged. "I think it was a right about two miles back?"

Dean nodded. _Sam is as confused as I am obviously or he'd be taking jabs at me. _He turned the key in the ignition and the Impala roared to life. "Two miles back, huh?"

Sam nodded firmly. "Two miles," he stated. The younger brother watched as his older brother's shoulders sagged in relief. _Guess he thought I'd make fun of him? Nope - _He felt better not poking at Dean when he was down. He smiled. _He's just tired, that's all. Hell, we both are._

Sam stared out the front windshield as Dean pulled the car back out onto the road. The vehicle pointed in the direction from which they just had come.

**-0- **

By four in the afternoon the hunters Winchester had finally figured out where the hell they were. They'd back tracked, re-racked and side-tracked until they'd ended up at some No-Tell Motel, some thirty miles outside of Orland Indiana, fifty miles from Union City.

So much for Bobby Singers directions Dean thought.

The older brother was peeved off. Hell, he was angry with Bobby, he was angry with Sam. He was angry with himself. What the hell? He couldn't admit that though, nope, it was all Sam's fault, he was supposed to be the navigator. He was supposed to get them there.

It had taken them all damn day to just get on the right rode, to find the freaking town. They'd circled back, then, they'd gotten lost again. _What is up with that?_ Dean was plain old mad. He sure as hell needed to get a better navigator - - _Sam sucked._

"I'll get us a room." The older brother stated bluntly as he bounded from the car.

Sam stared out the front window at the run down motel. It was a dump, as usual, but he was so tired, anywhere with a pillow, well, it was alright with him. He blew out a weary sigh. _Sometimes Dean was just exhausting._ Now, after a couple of hours of trying to get them where they were supposed to be, it seems, his big brother had decided to blame him. _Well, isn't that just special._ He glared as Dean's retreating back, wishing he wasn't so damn angry all the time, wishing that their Dad was still alive, still here to make his brother be himself again. He blinked back the excessive moisture that was suddenly welled up in his eyes. _I'm just tired. _He reassured himself. _Dean's just tired. It's okay. _

It seemed like it had only been a moment. Sam must have dozed for a second.

The driver's door swung open, "Mister Sunshine" sliding down against the seat.

Dean glanced across the car. He recognized a narcoleptic Sam when he saw one. _Damn it, he needed Sam awake, they had a hunt to do. _

Sam started and then just blinked at Dean.

Dean didn't say a word just let the motel key dangle in his fingers as he started up the car. Suddenly, he punched the pedal to the metal and the car did an abrupt u-turn in the parking lot.

Sam slammed into the driver's door.

"Damn it Dean?" the long legged hunter huffed out.

The car came to an abrupt halt in a parking spot directly behind where they'd been sitting not thirty seconds before.

Sam straightened up and rubbed his hand against his whiplashed neck. _God, sometimes Dean was an absolute ass. _

"You awake now?" Dean snorted. _Sam deserved that for making him drive around in circles all damn day_. "Two hours Sam, then we're out of here and heading to the hunt."

The driver's door whipped open.

"Awe Dean, come on man," Sam mumbled. "We could do it in the morning, it's late, and I'm tired. Hell, so are you." He yelled.

Dean stuck his head back in through the driver's door. "Stop whining, map boy, if you'd gotten us here earlier, well, we'd be done by now."

Sam sighed and rubbed his hand up against his throbbing neck. Dean was wearing on his nerves.

**-0-**

"So," Dean said as his swung open the trunk of the Impala, his hands fumbling for his salt gun in the trunk. He glanced from his little brother's face out across the weedy field. His eyes fell to the old clap board house standing ominously in the waning afternoon sunlight. "This spirit has taken out four people already, the last one a teenager coming up here last week with a bunch of other kids on a freaking dare." He shook his head in disbelief. "And the Police said, according to Bobby, that the kid fell down the stairs, the other kids, well, they all said he was pushed by something that looked to be a man." He raised his eyebrows as his green eyes glared at Sam, "a man that disappeared right before their eyes."

The police may have been baffled. The Winchesters were not.

Dean huffed. "And that's all the local authorities can do to lock this place down?" He nodded his head up at the porch. "Put up some damn yellow warning tape?"

Sam looked up at the tattered building; his blood shot eyes scanning the police tape that was crisscrossing the front porch and the door.

"And they did a poor freaking job of that." Dean hissed. _Anyone could get inside the house; the teens were proof of that. _He pressed Sam's salt gun roughly into his little brother's hands.

Sam tugged the gun up against his side, tiredly. "They put up a no trespassing sign." He offered up weakly in the police department's defense. He pointed at the barely visible sign stuck in the window on the far side of the porch.

Dean grunted. "Oh yeah like that's going to do a lot of freaking good Sam_? Cops don't have a clue when it comes to the supernatural! _He rolled his angry eyes as he pushed a bottle of holy water in his little brother's hand. He grabbed one up for himself.

Sam looked at his older brother and chewed his lower lip. _Dean is always mad -ever since Dad. _He blinked in sluggish exhaustion. They really shouldn't be on this hunt tonight. Dean was not a real fan of the police on any given day, but when kids were involved, when a kid got hurt or killed, well then, just forget it – he was pissed as hell.

Sam heaved out a weary breath. _It was going to be a long night._

Dean handed Sam a flashlight and stuffed another one inside his own coat pocket.

The trunk of the Impala slammed shut.

"Let's do it."

The older brother stomped forward toward the house.

Sam sighed tiredly and followed close behind.

**-0-**

4


	3. Chapter 3

**When You Are Confused**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Summary:** When you are confused, I will use little tiny words. A wayward ghost hunt and a concussed Sam can only make for one pissed-off big brother.

**Timeline: ** Season Two.

**Beta:** None, all mistakes are my own

**When You Are Confused**

**Chapter Three**

The porch steps creaked loudly with the weight of the two hunters as they made it quickly to the front door.

Sam's skin crawled, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. _It felt like someone was watching them? _He let his eyes dart around the empty porch as he squinted to look inside the dirty windows - nothing there -the EMF meter still quiet inside his coat pocket.

"I wished we'd done more research before we came out here, Dean" he stated. "I'm not even clear on what we're looking for?"

The older brother rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well, it's a ghost, end of story." He fumbled with the yellow barricade tape, yanking it heatedly away from the wooden boards. "Kids are dying Sam, I think that's all I freaking need to know."

Sam just stood watching his brother's angry movements. He knew Dean was right. Still, he had to say what was on his mind. This was crazy. He'd heard his brother huff in discontent at his words and he knew he'd really pissed him off, but what the hell; Dean was pissed at him all the time these days anyways, so what difference did it make?

He took a deep breath. Dean was all about the hunt and less about the details. It made Sam's stomach churn. They both were boarding on exhaustion and coming out here tonight was just plain old stupid. They should have waited till tomorrow morning - done some more research. He shook his tired head. _It scared him how intense his older brother was most of the time, but especially now, since Dad..._ He didn't want to think about his father. He sighed and focused on his brother's movements.

Dean's fingers un-tucked the lock-pick from his coat pocket as he gripped the doorknob and fiddled with the lock. With a light clink, the front door creaked open on its rusty hinges and Dean turned to smirk at Sam. They had access to the house.

Dean stepped inside, it was dark outside, but it was really dark inside. He flipped on his flashlight. He took three steps into the room. Nothing happened and he was glad, at least they'd gotten inside without a hitch.

He glanced back over his shoulder at Sam. The kid was still standing, just outside the doorway, wide eyed, looking all around.

"You coming or what," Dean frowned; he could see Sam's hesitation. "Jesus Sam, it's just a freaking ghost!" _What the hell is wrong with him?_

Sam twisted around, shaking his head. Something felt off. He couldn't put his finger on it though, but it was giving him cause to pause. He gave the porch one last look around.

But there was nothing.

He chewed his lower lip.

"What?" Dean replied gruffly, more a statement then a question. _If Sam felt something out of the ordinary about this average ghost hunt, well then, he needed to spit it out. _He moved further into the room.

Sam was silent for a moment. "Nothing," he said finally as he stomped heavily forward, moving up to be by Dean. "Nothing," He said again in exasperation. "Somebody's got to watch your freaking back."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, yeah, dude, whatever floats your boat." The older brother grinned wickedly. "You know if you want to stay out in the car," he snapped, "well, that'd be just fine with me."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. He wasn't arguing with Dean anymore. He pushed purposely past his older brother and flipped on his flashlight. He glared around the vacant room. _It still feels like someone's watching us?_

Dean hedged around his kid brother physically taking up the lead.

Sam rolled his eyes as dust motes floated up to greet him, dancing around the tattered furniture that decorated the room. He stifled down a cough. "So, we're sure this is a ghost, huh, Bobby didn't happen to say of whom?"

Dean just shrugged. "Nope, but we'll figure it out soon." His eyebrows waggled as he looked around the room.

Sam's stomach tied tighter in that knot. _No research, no Intel, great, great, great, great, great – just go in blind. So not like the brother that he knew – the one he remembered before their father died. _

"You know, we could do some research, come back later." Sam stated.

Dean ignored him.

**-0-**

Twenty minutes later and Dean declared the bottom floor of the house all clear. "Nothing here," he said as he headed out of the kitchen and back into the front room of the house.

Sam followed behind. _He's just so damn bossy_, he thought. "Whatever you say," he replied in a low, almost indecipherable, whisper. He just wanted to get out of here, and he really hoped they didn't find jack squat tonight.

Dean smirked as he went past his kid brother. "Good, I don't need any more arguments from you."

Sam exhaled silently to himself.

The older brother stopped in the foyer at the bottom of the winding staircase. He waited for Sam to catch up. _Damn his little brother was so freaking slow_. He checked the salt rounds in his gun before squinting up at Sam. _His brother moved at a snail's pace sometimes! _

Sam finally stood resignedly by Dean's side. He yawned and felt his eyelids drooping as Dean's flashlight cast a low beam up across his tired face. "'Bout time," he said.

Sam squinted at the brightness of the light. "Dean, stop it."

Something unclenched inside Dean's chest. _What the hell? Sammy looks exhausted? _His anger dissipated just a bit as he cleared his throat and dropped the light beam back down against the floor. _Maybe I need to cut the kid a break_. "Come on slow poke," he chided, "The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get out of here."

"It's been a long day," Sam whispered.

"Hell, it's been a long year." Dean said as he headed up the stairs.

And Sam smiled at that.

The brothers fell quiet as they moved slowly up the steps. No more to say, as both sets of eyes glanced around the tiny house, salt guns up and at the ready. Sam leaned his head to the side and blinked his burning eyes, he squinted them in the darkness. The emotional and physical toll of dealing with his brother, his father' death, and the relentless hunting, well, it was catching up with him. He was exhausted, bone-tired, heavy limbed, and beat. All he wanted was for this hunt to be over. 

**-0- **

They checked out two bedrooms on the second floor, nothing looking out of the ordinary or really out of place. Sam had moved to the other side of the bed and was checking out a closet.

Dean frowned at his little brothers sluggish movements. _Kid looked beat_. He had also grown tired of this stupid hunt and he was just about ready to call it a day.

Suddenly his eye caught a movement in the hallway.

"Sam," he muttered. He darted quickly from the room.

Sam heard Dean say his name; his head rose from the closet to look across at Dean. His hunter brother was already out of the room. One minute he was there, the next one, he was gone. _Oh shit._

He turned on his heels and attempted to exit from the room, stumbling over the bed and a chair in his haste to follow Dean. Before he can catch up though, Dean was out of his line of sight. _Damn it._ He heard the sound of Dean being assaulted as he rounded out past the bedroom door. He sees Dean's salt gun fly past his own head an instant later. _Shit, his brother is fighting with something. _

He heard Dean shriek in pain.

When he moves hastily around the corner, his older brother is on the floor. A large ominous looking ghost, _or is that a man_, is looming over him, and physically holding him down against the floor.

Sam skitters to a stop at the top of the winding staircase. _Holy crap!_ He tugs up his gun and shoots.

"Let go of him," he screams.

He cringes as he watches a large rusty screwdriver drive down and through his brother's hand, over and over and over. Dean is gasping from the pain, his body flailing with the creature and the bloody screwdriver. _What the hell is this thing? Rock salt only seems to piss it off. _

It yanks Dean's head up between its large hands and slams it hard against the floor.

Sam watches as Dean's eyes roll back up in his head.

He shuffles closer, adrenaline coursing thickly through his veins_. I got to get it off of Dean_. He doesn't know what else to do, so he shoots again, rock salt flying into the things back, its side, its head.

Suddenly, the ghost, the creature, whatever the hell it is, stills; Dean's body beneath it, lying limp against the dirty floor.

It darts its head up and looks heatedly at Sam. It eyes are normal for a second, and then, they flash an angry red. It drops Dean's body to the floor unexpectedly, stands up, and then rams full force into Sam.

Sam is caught off guard. His gun fumbles from his fingers, flying back behind his head. He is physically forced backwards and he stumbles on his feet. His arms wind mill for purchase, but there is nothing to grab a hold of. He is met with empty air.

The last thing he sees's before he tumbles down the staircase is those angry, blood red, eyes.

The last thing he thinks as his head smacks hard against the steps.

_Man, we should have done that research. _

5


	4. Chapter 4

**When You Are Confused**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Summary:** When you are confused, I will use little tiny words. A wayward ghost hunt and a concussed Sam can only make for one pissed-off big brother.

**Timeline: ** Season Two.

**Beta:** None, all mistakes are my own

**When You Are Confused**

**Chapter Four**

Dean came to with a gasp, his entire body jerking upward.

He thought that he was lying on a cold floor somewhere; although, he couldn't seem to think too clearly at the moment. He sighed. The main thing he could focus on was the throbbing of his right hand; he tugged it up to look at it through bleary, half lidded eyes. _What the hell?_ Blood was covering his digits and dripping down his wrist to soak into his sleeve. As an afterthought, he realized that his head was pulsating with the throbbing of his hand. _Great!_

He heaved in a shaky groan and curled his hand up against his chest, dropping his aching head back against the floor boards. He stared blankly at the ceiling attempting to clear his muggy mind.

Suddenly, reality slammed into him. _A hunt, he was - they were - where the hell is Sam? _He twisted on the floor, eyes scanning the area in the darkness.

"Sam?"

He pushed himself upward his bleeding hand still curled against his chest.

He heard nothing. _Okay, got 'a find Sam_.

He pulled his body up until he was standing on his weak and wobbly legs. His vision swam a moment, but then, it cleared. He squinted in the darkness. He remembered they were own a hunt – he remember red eyes – _didn't look like no freaking ghost to me - -_ He pondered different creatures that they'd hunted before, but nothing came to mind. _What the hell was that?_

He glanced down at his brightly bleeding hand. Slowly, he tore off a piece of his tee-shirt and wrapped it around the appendage. _Son of a bitch, that hurts._ He bit his lower lip. _Breathe through it, breathe through it. _

He turned on his booted heels and gazed around the non-descript room. _I can't see shit, where the hell is my flashlight? My gun?_

"Sam?" he said a little louder this time as he looked around the room.

He remembered Sam had been right behind him when the ghost thingy had been beating the crap out of him. He remembered Sam firing off a shot or two, salt rounds only managing to piss the creature off?

He fumbled in his pocket for his Zippo, finding it; he yanked it out and flipped it on. The bright light swayed around him as he peered into the dark. _Where the hell is Sam?_

Something caught his eye on the floor. _Yat-zhee! _ He took two steps, flipped off the lighter, and grabbed the flashlight up and off the floor. He smiled when he saw the familiar shot gun and grabbed it up and to his side.

"G-uh…"

The low moan caught his attention. His head tilted to the side as he strained to listen, body honing in against the sound.

"Sam?" He said, a slight tinge of fear edging up inside his tone.

His gun came up to the ready position as he scanned the room again. _-if that ghost, that creature, has hurt Sammy…well, there'd be hell to pay…_

"Hu-nuh…"

He moved quickly toward the noise.

"Sammy?"

He reached to top of the stairs, his blue-green eyes gazing intently downward, with the beam of light the flashlight cast. And there was Sam, about halfway down the stairs case.

His brother was, bent at the waist, his head bowed so far forward that it was almost leaning on a step. His fingers were clutching tightly to the hand rail, his salt gun discarded by his side against the stairs.

Dean could see his brother was swaying and swallowing convulsively. _Holy shit, he's gon'a pass out and fall down the freaking stairs. _

"Sammy?" He said urgently as he tripped and bounded down the stairs_. I need to get to him…now!_

Sam's head pulled up slightly, unfocused hazels looking at Dean through too long shaggy bangs.

"Hang on," Dean ordered. "Don't you let go." He demanded.

Sam looked at him in confusion.

Dean stopped directly by Sam's side, his firm hand griping Sam by the arm, steadying him.

Sam swayed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..."

Dean fumbled to grab at Sam, fingers clutching at his little brothers jacket. The abrupt motion sent red hot rods of pain through his hand and down into his arm. It didn't stop him though. He pushed Sam hard, setting them both down roughly on the steps.

"Holy shit," he hissed through his tightly clinched teeth. He struggled to hang on to Sam and to ground himself against the railing and then blew out a shaky sigh.

Sam leaned against him.

"I gotcha, buddy" Dean reassured. He roughly tucked his little brother's head beneath his chin with his now bloody, half bandaged hand. "You're not going to fall."

Sam sighed shakily.

**-O-**

They sat there, on the rickety steps, in the middle of the dark room for several long m minutes, Dean holding on to Sam like there was no tomorrow, Sam just leaning into him.

Sam moaned.

"Hey," Dean whispered against the matted brown hair. "You with me?" he placed his blood soaked fingers beneath Sam's chin and turned the wobbly head up to look into his little brothers eyes. His half bandaged fingers smudged a blood trail against Sam's chin. "Ouch," the older brother said.

Sam had a large, egg sized, purple-green lump right in the center of his forehead, covered, only slightly, by his too long messy bangs.

Sam looked sluggishly at Dean. "Dean?"

Dean cupped his pale cheek. "You're okay, I gotcha."

"D...Dean?" Sam whispered almost childlike again, and then suddenly, he pushed away from Dean.

"Whoa, whoa, hang on a minute," Dean grabbed at his sibling, attempting to settle him back down. "Damn it Sammy, just set still before you make us both fall down the freaking stairs."

Sam stilled. "St…stairs? Whir r we," Sam slurred as he tilted back a bit to look all wide eyed up at Dean.

_Concussion -_ Dean thought. - _Great _

"We're in the old house, ghost hunt - remember?"

Sam just stared blankly.

"The red-eyed dude trying to cut my hand off? Ring any bells?"

Sam looked perplexed for a moment. "Oh," he blinked lethargically as his head wobbled weakly on his neck, "yeah."

Dean looked from Sam down the staircase and then back up. _Shit, which way to go, which way to go? _"We need to get off these steps."

"Huh?" Sam mumbled his eyes slowly drifting shut.

"Hey," Dean said loudly. He jostled Sam. "Don't go to sleep. I can't get us both off these steps all by myself dude."

Unfocused hazel orbs darted back open.

"We're going up bro, 'cause if we go down, well, you're probably going to fall."

"I fee...lll al…rdy…"Sam slurred.

_Damn ghost, monster, whatever the hell that was._ Dean pushed and pulled, tugging his gangly limbed brother up with him to a standing position.

They both wobbled on the steps.

"Come on, Sammy, help me out here, stand up on those giraffe legs of yours."

Sam's hands floundered against Dean's jacket, white knuckling it, physically hanging on for dear life as they swayed.

"We ain't falling on my watch. Three steps, Sammy, that's all, you can make it."

Dean felt immense pride when his brother fumbled one foot upward to place it precariously on the steps. "That's it." He encouraged, "Two more, kiddo."

Sam leaned into his older brother, "D e…whir we go'n'?" he asked innocently.

Dean rolled his eyes. Sam sounded like he was four years old. He sighed and held on tighter to Sam, hoisting him firmly to his side.

Sam clutched and fumbled for Dean's hand, smashing it tightly in his own.

Dean bit back a yelp. The pain Sam was causing him, well; it could never override his dire need to get his brother off these freaking steps.

5


	5. Chapter 5

**When You Are Confused**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Summary:** When you are confused, I will use little tiny words. A wayward ghost hunt and a concussed Sam can only make for one pissed-off big brother.

**Timeline: ** Season Two.

**Beta:** None, all mistakes are my own

**When You Are Confused**

**Chapter Five**

Dean dumped his overgrown little brother on the floor at the top of the staircase, Sam falling in an almost boneless heap. The kid swayed slightly as he attempted to push and scrabble himself upward on his weak, spaghetti arms. Dean gripped him by the elbow to steady him as he sat himself down next to Sam on the floor with a thud. He was winded from the effort of just getting Sammy up the freaking steps. Moving anyone Sam's size was a big task with a minor injury, but a concussed, incoherent Sam, well, that was practically impossible.

He pushed out a shaky sigh as he glanced about the empty house, straining his eyes to see in the pale glow of the flashlight. He figured the ghost or whatever the hell that red eyed son-a-bitch was - it would be back, and when it was, he needed to be ready. _I need to talk to Bobby, figure out what the hell that mother is. _He was about to tug his cell phone from his coat pocket when he saw Sam tilting to the side.

"Whoa…Sammy," His hand darted up to grip his sibling by the arm. Steady him. The kid looked extremely pale in the glow of the light beam, his eyes heavy as he slowly tugged his head up and looked dazedly at Dean. He shuddered visibly, his body fighting against the pain.

"Come on kiddo let's lean you up against the wall."

Dean scooted himself backwards on his butt, physically tugging Sam along.

Sam jerked and Dean flinched but kept on going.

The concussed kid attempted to help, scuffing his boots along the grimly floor. He grunted with the movement, his head flopping around loosely on his neck.

"Easy, I gotcha," Dean offered reassuringly.

The older brother manipulated his sibling's pliant form until his body was leaning at a leftward angle up against the tattered wall.

Sam moaned as he rolled his head, cheek squished up against the peeling paint. _My head hurts?_ He swallowed convulsively, warm bile sitting just beneath his tongue.

"You okay?" Dean asked his fingers still gripping at Sam's arms. He recognized the look on his sickly brother's face. _Oh shit, don't throw up. _He gazed at Sam with concern.

"You gonna be sick?"

Sam swallowed again, his pupils blown wide, eyes showing very little hazel, as he looked at Dean. He pawed lightly at his older brother's shirt.

"Dean?" Sam blinked in puzzlement at Dean's face. "Wh'r are we?" he asked again.

Dean released his grip on Sam patting his concussed brother lightly on his chest. "We're on a hunt Sammy," Green eyes peered at Sam. "You got hurt, remember?"

Sam blinked slowly. "Uh Huh?"

Dean shook his head lightly, "It's okay." He glanced down at his own blood soaked fingers and cringed. Sam was too out of it to notice that he was hurt too; at least he didn't have to deal with an overprotective kid brother at the moment.

Dean flipped his cell phone open as he pressed Bobby Singers quick dial number.

The phone rang, once, twice.

"Yeah."

"Bobby, its Dean,"

"Dean, how'd the hunt go?"

"We're still here,"

Bobby snorted, that could only mean one thing - there was a problem.

"Listen, Bobby. I don't' know what the hell this is, this ghost, it's got red eyes."

"Red eyes," Bobby questioned urgently.

"Listen, I ain't got time to talk, Sams' got a concussion, and we're still in the house. How do you kill it?"

"Oh my god," He released a heavy sigh. "It's a Deodand."

"What the hell is that," Dean hissed out as his hand pressed his wavering brother back against the wall.

Sam moaned with the motion.

"A Deodand?" Dean was perplexed. "You said it was a ghost, what the hell is a Deodand?"

Bobby huffed in disbelieve. "Deodands are strong, murderous, and carnivorous creatures, kind of ghost with an attitude."

"What?" Dean looked at his little brother and gripped the phone so tight it might just break in to. "What the hell, Bobby?" he hissed.

"Don't get your britches in a bunch kid. They can be killed with offensive spells, which they fear; I just have to look it up for you."

"Sam's hurt, Bobby, he took a bad tumble down the stairs." Dean stated nervously. He glanced at Sam.

"Bobby?" Sam looked around in confusion.

"I don't…" Dean dropped the cell phone to the floor as the ugly red eyed Deodand appeared on the other side of Sam. He grabbed Sam by the forearm and yanked him forward, hard. "You son-a-bitch, get away from him," he yelled.

Bobby heard Dean yelling and the salt gun being discharged. "Dean, Dean…" he screamed frantically into the phone. He held his breath. _Shit!_ He kept the cell phone pressed against his ear as he stumbled to his study, his fingers fumbling urgently through the stacks of books and papers.

**-O-**

The Deodand dispersed into a wide white spray of salt.

Dean stared at the spot where the creature had just been. His eyes did a wide sweep of the area. He just prayed it was gone for the moment so he could figure out what the hell he needed to do. _I need to get Sam somewhere safe. _Suddenly, the sound of retching behind him had him turning immediately on his heels. _Sammy?_

Sam's head was bowed, his body leaning forward on both his weak and wobbly arms. A large pool of nasty bile was puddle on the floor in front of him. He raised his pasty white face peering from beneath his too long messy bangs at Dean. "Don't e…feellllsooogood, he muttered.

"Crap," Dean skidded to his brother's side, dropping the salt gun to the floor. "Yeah, I get that." Dean snorted as he pushed the kid back from the mess he'd just made to once again rest against the wall.

Sam cuffed his shirt sleeve up to swipe across his lips shakily. He swallowed thickly as he looked with baffled half-open eyes at Dean.

"Dean….Dean…." A tiny voice rose up around the hunters in the dark.

Sam looked even more confused.

"Oh Shit," Dean scrabbled to grab up the cell phone from the floor.

"Bobby?" He almost screamed into the receiver. "I need the freaking spell." He demanded, "Now!"

"Calm down, I got it." Bobby stated matter of fact. _Stay calm, keep the boy calm._

The tightness in Dean's chest released just a bit. He blew out a weary sigh. He tugged his uninjured fingers through his closely cropped hair. _Okay, okay, I got this, _ He watched as Sam slumped down against the floor.

"You need to write this down." Bobby stated.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Dean huffed out. "I can't write it down, hell Bobby, I can barely see in here."

"Okay, okay," Bobby sighed, "Let me think…let me think."

Dean could feel the older hunter's tension through the phone. Suddenly, the young hunters face lit up, "I could record it on my phone," he said excitedly.

"That'd work." Bobby quickly agreed. "Good idea Dean."

"Wait, wait let me find the record button." _Where is it, where is it. _Dean fumbled with his phone. _Where is it, where is it. Tools – Tools - Record_. "Got it, I got it," he yelled excitedly into the cell phone.

4


	6. Chapter 6

**When You Are Confused**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Summary:** When you are confused, I will use little tiny words. A wayward ghost hunt and a concussed Sam can only make for one pissed-off big brother.

**Timeline: ** Season Two.

**Beta:** None, all mistakes are my own

**When You Are Confused**

**Chapter Six**

Dean flipped his cell phone shut and stuffed it hastily inside his shirt pocket. He glanced uncomfortably around the house. The sun must have been on the verge of rising as the room was not as dark now and he could vaguely see. He glanced at his watch, barely making out it was just after four a.m. It had been a long night.

He blew out a weary sigh and swiped his bloody fingers down against his tattered jeans. His hand hurt like a mother. _Don't think about it._ His eyes fell back to Sam. _Screw this_, right now; he was doing what Bobby had advised, high tailing it out of here; before the stupid freaking Deodand decided to return - _son-a-bitch pushed my brother down the freaking steps_–he would most definitely be back later to put an end to this mother.

"Sam," he said, moving swiftly over next to his little brother.

Sam was slumped against the wall his head rolling loosely on his neck as he looked through unruly bangs at Dean.

"Come on, little brother," Dean urged, crouching down to look at Sam, but being sure to keep an eye on their surroundings. "You need to get up. We have to get the hell out of here, okay?"

Sam's eyes squinted weakly to meet his gaze. He looked confused and lost.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, dude, it's me -saving your skinny ass again. Now come on, up an' at 'em."

"Huh?" Sam frowned.

Dean shook his head. _Sammy's got a bad concussion_.

He'd just have to use little tiny words; at least they might get through to Sam.

"Up." He stated firmly.

Rather than moving to stand, Sam's eyes began to flutter closed and he heaved a sigh that clearly signaled 'Hey, I'm passing out now.'

"No, no, man, don't do that," Dean pleaded. "Come on, Sam." His fingers tightened into the folds of the kid's jacket, giving him a harsh, but little shake.

Sam was beginning to slide further down the wall, oblivious to his brother's motions or distress.

Dean felt a swell of panic. There was no way he could get them both down the stairs, out the front door, and cover both their asses too.

"Wake UP," he begged, not trying to hide the anxiety in his voice. "SAMMY, please."

Remarkably, Sam's eyes fluttered open at the nickname, and he seemed to focus somewhat on Dean's face.

"Up?" the concussed little brother murmured blinking wide hazel eyes at the blurry figure above him.

"Up." Dean commanded again as he stuffed his salt gun in the back of his jeans and reached for Sam with both hands gripping firmly on his wobbly brothers arms.

He hated to see the kid in pain. He realized, at that moment, that he'd been arguing non-stop with his brother since his father died. He cringed, _since 'their' father died_, he thought sadly. _John Winchester had been Sammy's father too._ The thought stung at his heart. _Please, just help me get him out of here in one piece; _he prayed silently to a God he wasn't even sure was listening, or was even there at all. _I'll make this all up to him, I promise._

"Come on, kiddo, we need to skedaddle," he murmured, gently sliding his non bleeding hand up around Sam's right shoulder and pulling him up and from the wall.

Despite his gentleness, Sam moaned at the movement, his head sagging down against Dean's chest.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered softly into Sam's hair, his voice breaking with his words.

He hefted his brother upright, gritting his teeth at the pitiful whimpers the movement elicited from Sam. They stumbled forward toward the staircase, Dean's eyes darting all around. _Just get down the stairs and to the door, down the stairs and to the door, down the stairs and to the door…_

Of course Winchesters never got what they wanted, at least that's what Dean always said, and this hunt, well; it wasn't destined to be different. To say he wasn't surprised when the Deodand reappeared was understatement. In fact, he laughed as he leaned Sam down to rest against the stairs. _Isn't this ironic_, he was setting Sam down right where he'd found him earlier. _What the fu…the kid could still fall down the freaking stairs. _

He pulled his gun steadfastly from his waistband ignoring the pain that ignited in his hand and up his arm. He aimed at the red-eyed being and pulled the trigger. The salt spray fanned out and through the air.

Dean tugged at Sam's arms, pulling his sluggish brother back up to his feet.

He really just wanted to get them out of the house – right freaking now. _For God's sake give it a rest you red eyed son of a bitch. _He should just play the spell, but first he had to get Sam down the stairs. His hand and arm were on fire, but the pain was not nearly as bad as the voice of his little brother as he stumbled down the last three stairs and butted up against Dean's side.

"Sammy." Dean's voice soothed. He hoisted Sam up closer to his side, "Come on, little brother. Let's get you out of here and to the hospital, get you all fixed up."

"Dean," Sam whispered in confusion.

The hand on the concussed Winchester's back tightened, the other one grabbing gingerly at the front of the wobbly hunters coat.

"Its okay, little brother." Dean quieted. "Come on, we're almost to the door."

"You okay," Sam questioned as he blinked sluggishly at Dean's bloody hand_. Is Dean bleeding?_ He blinked and focused for a moment on Dean's face.

Dean must have heard the desperate need for reassurance in Sam's voice, because he slowed down enough to turn and look his brother in the eye.

"We're okay, Sammy. We're gonna be fine."

Satisfied with that response, Sam sighed, nodded, and then waivered on his feet.

"Whoa," Dean gripped Sam tighter around the waist. "Stay awake... Sam, come on." He pleaded.

"…tired," Sam mumbled, his eyelids drooping lower with each heavy blink.

Suddenly the Deodand appeared out of nowhere, slamming harshly into Dean. He lost his footing and his grip on Sam as they both stumbled downward hard against the floor. _Damn it all to hell, the door was just so freaking close,_ Dean gripped at Sam to keep him from banging his head against the floor.

Sam whimpered and rolled onto his side.

_That's it_, Dean thought angrily. _This mother's going down_.

He released his grip on Sam, patting his sibling lightly on the chest. "You stay right here Sammy."

Sam just blinked at him.

The older brother stood up and yanked his cell phone from his shirt pocket. _Screw this crap_. He flipped on the play button. "Come on…" he yelled.

The Deodand screeched loudly as it reappeared inside the room. It stood between Dean and the front door.

Dean sighed. _It was time for this to be over_. His blood coated fingers fumbled hastily with the sound button as the recorded voice began to resound throughout the room.

The entity waivered and looked at Dean in almost stunned surprise.

Dean grinned. _Gotcha!_

4


	7. Chapter 7

**When You Are Confused**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Summary:** When you are confused, I will use little tiny words. A wayward ghost hunt and a concussed Sam can only make for one pissed-off big brother.

**Timeline: ** Season Two.

**Beta:** None, all mistakes are my own

**When You Are Confused**

**Chapter Seven**

Sam heard…_Bobby?_

He lifted up his heavy head. He couldn't really make anything out through the intense spinning of the room. He shut his eyes, gagged, and felt the sting of warm bile in the back of his throat. He swallowed convulsively and sucked in a large gulp of air, opening his eyes once again. He'd hoped the room would settle, but it continued to seesaw around him.

A familiar voice whispered in the distance.

"Gotcha…"

It relaxed him just a bit and he blinked slowly. Dean was putting an end to some ugly ghost or ghoul; he knew that much for sure.

About that time, a giant shockwave slammed against him.

"Yes!"

Sam swayed from the impact. He peered though half mast eyelids at Dean, his big brother looking somewhat pleased with himself. Sam sighed and struggled to keep his body up on his weak and wobbly arms. His rubbery limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate anymore.

And the room was spinning faster.

"De...n..." he whimpered as he sagged forward toward the floor.

**-0- **

Sometimes Dean Winchester thought, _Hell yeah!_ Hunts always got his blood pumping. _Killing supernatural beings is always such a rush_. He grinned smugly as he watched the Deodand disperse unhappily into the predawn morning night. _Guess I showed your ass who was freaking boss. _

Normally, he'd take a few seconds to enjoy this moment, savor his victory- wallow in it just a bit – but-

He glanced across at Sam.

_Not today. _

He stepped quickly to his little brother's side and skidded down beside him.

Sam's head was wobbling loosely on his neck.

"Whoa…" Dean exclaimed anxiously. "Hey, hey, hey…"

His strong arms coiled around the pliant body.

**-0-**

"_Sam."_

Someone was saying his name.

His head felt thick, out of sorts, like it was stuffed with too much cotton.

The numbing darkness felt good though and he sank back into it.

"_Sammy."_

The voice was familiar though…

He was…_where am I_?

He felt kind of anxious for a moment, like he needed to be doing something, but then, the thought flittered from his head, and he sank back into oblivion.

**-0- **

Dean sighed. _It was time for Sammy to wake up. _He was tired of setting in this uncomfortable excuse for a chair.

He leaned forward, flinching when his bandaged fingers brushed against the sheets. He bit his lower lip against the pain and eased his bum hand down to limply in his lap. With his good hand, he brushed the too long bangs away from the lax forehead and pulled the top blanket up beneath his brother's chin.

"You can wake up anytime Sam." He whispered. "It's time for you to come back to me." His voice quivered as he struggled to contain his emotion. "I know I've been an ass as of late, since Dad died and all." He tugged his good hand through his cropped hair and sighed. "I know I've been pushing too hard," his voice cracked. "I know, and I'm sorry Sammy, I'm so sorry."

Sam didn't flinch.

Warm tears welled up in blue-green eyes and were blinked hastily away. _Keep it together, it's only been three days…he's gon'a wake up. _He gripped Sam's hand inside his own, reassuring his baby brother that he was here, that he would always be here.

"Come on, Sammy, open your eyes." He said again.

Still nothing…

Suddenly, a steaming hot cup of coffee appeared in front of Dean's face.

"Any change?" Bobby asked.

Dean released Sam's fingers and gazed sadly up at the senior hunters face. He curled his fingers around the steaming hot cup of brew.

"Nope…"

**-0-**

Someone was humming Metallica and Sam focused on the sound.

Warm fingers petted at his wrist. It reassured him, tugged him forward from the fog. _Dean? Is Dean humming?_ His brother really liked this song.

"Is he smiling?" A voice said curiously.

Sam drifted for a moment.

"Sam? Dean said anxiously. "Sammy?"

Sam heard snippets of the conversation, a gruff voice beside him said, "Man, I think he's waking up."

"-wake up, Sammy, plea-come on kiddo-"

Suddenly all sorts of sensations flooded Sam's brain as he tugged open his lead laden eyelids. It was too bright and a sharp pain slammed into his skull. He quickly shut his eyes.

"Bobby, get the light," Dean commanded. "Sammy! Sammy, open your eyes, come on, you can do it."

Sam rolled his head against the pillow, a weak attempt to get away. But the voice was unrelenting. "Sam, wake up now," it demanded.

There was no escape.

"Sam," Dean said, harder, gruffer, sounding a whole lot like their Dad.

Sam's head rolled on the pillow.

"Come on open your eyes up," Dean soothed, "Bobby turned the light off." He released a heavy sigh, "please Sammy…" he all but begged.

Sam knew he could never deny his older brother anything, especially when he sounded so distraught. _Why's he sound like that? _Anxiety pulled at him until finally he drug open his all too heavy lids.

Everything was blurry.

"Sammy…" Dean's voice cracked. _Damn it, don't be a cry baby, he's awake now he's going to be fine._ He glanced up at Bobby, whose own eyes were glistening too. It'd been a long damn week.

"Thank God," the senior hunter exhaled noisily happy to see the kid was waking up.

Sam blinked his eyes once, twice, three times, and finally Dean's face drifted into view. _Man, he looks rough._

"Dean?" The word came out thick and croaky, like his voice hadn't been used in days. _I need a drink of water. _Before he could even ask though, a straw was pressed against his lips.

He giddily sucked the liquid down.

"Drink," Dean said as he helped his now awake little brother take a drink.

Sam did as he was told; the cool and the wet felt so good going down. He sputtered, gulping down the water with a vengeance.

Dean pulled the straw away, "hey, not too much bro."

Sam brow furrowed in confusion. _Don't take it away._

"Take it easy Sammy." Dean soothed. He sat the cup back down on the table and patted his brother lightly on the chest. Warm teardrops welled up to his eyelids and he blinked to keep them under control. _He's okay, he's okay. _

Sam drifted for a while. Something patted his leg and he blinked open his bleary eyes. He glanced down toward his feet – and there was Bobby - a wide smile setting on his face. _When did he get here? _

Sam dozed.

"He's gon'a be fine Dean."

"Yeah, yeah….I know, it's just, I'm just…" Dean blew out a weary sigh and looked at their surrogate father. It'd been a rough hunt and an even rougher week.

"It's okay," Bobby said, "I'll go get the doctor, tell'em Sam's awake."

"Okay," Dean whispered in a worn out, tired tone.

Sam heard Bobby shuffle from the room. He tugged open his lead laden eyelids and yawned. He was so tired. He looked with sleepy eyes at Dean_. Is he holding my hand?_

His brother's eyes were closed.

Sam smiled, crushing his brother's fingers inside his own as he drifted off to sleep.

THE END!

6


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